


The Beat of the Baker's Heart

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Aces Jack, Alternate Universe, Asexual Jack, Baker Bitty, Established Jack/Kent, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, NHL Kent, Open Relationships, Polyamory, nhl jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:45:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jack and Kent have an arrangement which has worked well for them for years.  Then Kent sees an adorable blonde in a club, and everything changes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my 1,000 followers fic fest-- Hi so for the fic fest thing, what if pb&j where jack and parse are nhl boyfriends and Bitty is a cute baker they meet on the off season? Because I feel like it is everything I need in this life (also any rating is fine, I am not picky)
> 
> In this fic, Jack is asexual, sex-repulsed, and they have an agreed upon open relationship which is sex only. That is not always the case when ace/sex repulsed people are in relationships with people who aren't ace, but in this case that's how they choose to handle it. Fic will be posted both here and on Tumblr.
> 
> I hope this was what you had in mind! Thanks, nonny! x

Jack looked over just as Kent grinned and shoved his tongue into the small opening of his beer bottle. Rolling his eyes, Jack elbowed his boyfriend. “Bored already, eh?”

Kent shrugged. “Dunno.” He shifted over, leaning his head on Jack’s shoulder and slid his arm round his boyfriend’s waist. “I guess. The music kind of sucks.”

Jack let his hand close over Kent’s, even as he pushed away slightly. “Hanging all over me isn’t going to get you laid.”

Kent snorted, pushing his face against Jack’s shoulder. “I don’t have to get laid every night. No one here is even cute.”

Jack hummed, then reached over, grabbing Kent by the chin and pushed his face toward the bar where a small crowd was gathered for drinks. “Two o’clock. Jeans, red shirt. Blonde.”

Kent spotted him right away, and let out a tiny snort. “Babe, isn’t that more of your type. He’s…” Kent’s words died off when the short man turned. He was having an animated conversation with a woman a few inches shorter than he was, wearing a white shirt with paint-stains up the sides. And Kent couldn’t tell right away what it was about him. He was attractive, yes, but he wasn’t the only attractive person in the club that night.

But maybe it was the way he seemed to create sunshine out of his smile. Or the way his big, dark eyes conveyed every emotion. He talked with his hands, wide, sweeping gestures, and a laughing apology when he spilt his drink on his friend.

Kent’s mouth went a little dry and he found himself withdrawing his arm. “Uh.”

“I thought so,” Jack said quietly. “Go on. I’ll catch an uber home. You have your keys, right?”

Kent’s eyes flicked back to Jack’s face for confirmation. They’d been doing this for years now. Years between the two of them trying to work out what it meant for Jack to be asexual and mildly sex repulsed, Kent to be hyper-sexual, demi-romantic, and madly in love with each other. They’d been working past their long, tangled, half-painful history off the ice, keeping their chemistry on as two of the most infamous hockey players in the NHL. The Parse-Zimms duo struck hearts into the fear of many.

Three cups under their belt, a near decade of being together, and the first out players in their sport.

It wasn’t easy.

It had taken a lot to get to where they were, and even to this day, even with Jack’s expressed permission, Kent always felt a little wrong. Not like he was cheating, but like something was missing. Like Jack should somehow be able to have a part in all this.

Deep down Kent knew it meant it wasn’t all about the sex, but usually he could put a pin in it.

Tonight though, staring at the guy across the club, it felt like something a little more.

Jack leant in and pecked Kent on the cheek. “I’ll leave a towel out for you, and I’ll try to stay up.”

Kent opened his mouth to protest, but Jack was already on his app, ordering the car, and heading for the doors. Kent fought back the sudden urge to follow him, but just then the other man let out a giggling laugh and Kent found himself hooked again.

He watched from his lonely table as the woman he was with was dragged onto the dance floor by a tall, thin man with a moustache. The dancing was ridiculous, and the blonde kept giggling as he watched, and there was a look in his eyes. Wistful, Kent realised. Kent knew that look a little too well.

Unable to stop himself, he slid from his barstool and strolled across the club to the bar. He was a foot—maybe—away from the blonde, and he splayed his hands along the cool marble as he ordered a drink. He didn’t want to get tipsy—he didn’t fuck drunk, and so far he’d only seen this guy have a few sips—but having something to do with his hands would help.

The highball glass was chilled, and he twisted it between his fingers as he turned and slid into the blonde’s personal space. “Sorry,” he said, as the shorter man was jostled.

“Oh that’s…” his words—laced heavy with a sweet southern accent—trailed off. “Oh my gosh. You’re Kent Parson.”

It wasn’t like Kent was unused to being recognised. Even though Vegas wasn’t exactly hockey-heavy in regards to sports, he and Jack were everywhere like…a lot. Their team constantly chirped them about being the Beckhams of the NHL world—especially after Jack’s latest GQ spread.

But whatever. Kent didn’t mind the attention. Or the paycheck.

“That’s me,” he said with a slick grin. He stuck out his hand, and after a second, the other man took it, fumbling a little with his words.

“Oh uh. I’m. Eric? Eric Bittle. My friends call me Bitty which…I uh…”

“Nice to meet you, Bits,” Kent said, and winked, enjoying the intense flush colouring Bitty’s cheeks. “You having fun tonight?”

“Um. Yes?” Bitty said, again sounding like a question.

Kent laughed. “Do you get out here a lot? I come here at least once a week, but I would have definitely remembered seeing you.”

Bitty, if possible, flushed deeper. “Oh. Um!” He let out a nervous laugh. “No actually, I just moved here. Shitty—that’s the guy over there with the ‘stache—he got me an amazing deal on some property. I just opened a bakery.”

Kent’s eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah? Where’d you come from?”

“Um. Samwell. It’s um. East Coast, near Boston. I uh…had a not-so great break up and needed to get away.”

Kent elbowed Bitty lightly, cocking his head to the side. “That sucks, Bits. But I can tell you for sure, Vegas is a great place to forget shit.”

Bitty’s lips curved into a smile. “Yeah? You got a lot you need to forget, Mr Aces Captain?”

Kent laughed. “Chirps like that, you’d do well on my team.”

Bitty shook his head. “College hockey was enough for me.”

Kent’s eyebrows shot up. “You played?”

Bitty laughed. “You think this nickname was just because of my size. Bless your heart,” he said, and gave Kent’s arm a pat. Where his fingers touched naked skin burned, and Kent felt his throat go so dry, he had to gulp his drink.

“Uh. So. Bits. You wanna dance? You look like you could tear it up out there.”

Bitty looked at him, a calculating expression on his face. Then he said, “I know you got a boyfriend, Kent Parson.”

Kent shrugged. “I do. He’s the one who pointed you out.”

“Where is he?” Bitty asked, and his eyes began to scan the crowd for Jack Zimmermann.

Kent took a chance and slid in close enough their arms were brushing, and he leant down. “He took an uber home. But if you don’t believe me, you can give him a call.” Reaching into his pocket, he felt Bitty shiver as he pulled his phone out, then unlocked the screen. “Swear.”

Bitty took it, his fingers hovering over Kent’s contacts. He thumbed through them, eyes widening at the sight of all the hockey players’ names on there. “Oh good lord,” Bitty gasped. “Sid Crosby?”

Kent laughed low in Bitty’s ear. “He’s Zimms’ friend. Sid and I aren’t…exactly uh…we don’t get along that well. But he’s a good guy. Really good guy. I think it’s kinda late there but I bet if we called he’d pick up.”

Bitty scoffed. “Is this really how you pick up guys in the club, Mr Parson?”

Kent barked a laugh as he leant away. “No one’s called me that in like…maybe ever?” He shook his head, feeling warm all over. “And no. You’re definitely making this one a challenge, Bits.”

“Well if you think I’m gonna be impressed and just jump into those cute lil jeans of yours just because you can hit a puck into a net, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Kent’s eyes were wide, and for a second Bitty looked…maybe afraid that he’d crossed a line. But Kent just threw his head back and laughed, slinging an arm over Bitty’s shoulders. “Fuck. You are so cute. Are you single? I guess I should’a asked that before.”

Bitty huffed, but nodded, and very decidedly did _not_ take a step away from Kent’s arm. “Maybe I am.”

Before Kent could reply—which was good because he couldn’t think of anything witty to say right then—they were interrupted by Bitty’s friends. The man with the mustache—Bitty had referred to him as Shitty before—stared with wide eyes. “Well I’ll be fucking fucked. You’re Kent Parson.”

“I am.” Kent extended his hand, and was promptly introduced to Shitty Knight, and his partner Lardo Duan. He kept his arm around Bitty tightly as they started to chat, and a few minutes later, Kent glanced off to the side and saw a massive table being set up with cups. “Oh shit. Flip Cup. You wanna play? Doubles? Me an’ Bits against you two?”

Bitty groaned, Shitty grinned in triumph, and Lardo smiled casually with a, “Sure. Why not.”

It ended as badly as any game of flip cup could end for Kent. With him drinking too much, losing spectacularly, and having to take his photo with Lardo and post it on his twitter. He ended up with three new followers that he followed back, and the four of them crammed into a booth—Kent and Bitty sticking to water as Shitty and Lardo nursed a beer between them.

“Okay so you two are in Seattle,” Kent said, poking a black stirring straw at the pair. “But you’ll be down here again, right?”

“Why?” Lardo asked, a perfectly groomed eyebrow raised.

Kent’s face went solid, competitive. “Because I want a fuckin’ rematch.”

Lardo laughed. “Yeah, alright. But I’m the fucking flip cup champion so you’re gonna be screwed. But whatever, brah, it’s your liver.”

“I’m gonna throw a party,” Kent said decidedly. He reached over and tucked Bitty close. “Will you make a pie for my party, Bits?”

“You’re drunk, Kenny,” Bitty said, sounding just this side of sloshed himself.

Kent shrugged. “Yeah. M’not gonna take you home after all. But like…I really want pie.”

“Then you should come to my bakery where I have walls of pie.”

“True,” Shitty said. “He’s not lying. Walls of pie.”

Kent grinned and grabbed Bitty’s hand, pressing his lips to his knuckles. “Maybe I will.”

Bitty flushed. “Okay. I’ll hold you to it, Mr Parson.”

“You do that,” Kent said softly, and secretly hoped Bitty meant to do exactly that.

*** 

Kent stood out front of the bakery, hung over, and a little anxious about going inside. Yeah, he’d been invited. Yeah he’d kind of fucked up his usual routine of pulling a one-off and never speaking to them again, but then again he hadn’t slept with Bitty so it wasn’t exactly against the rules.

Only it felt like it was. And the guilt was eating at him.

His fingers only shook a little when he pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit Jack’s icon.

“Ouais?”

Kent breathed. In, then out, then in, then out. “Um. Ça va?”

“Kenny,” Jack said tiredly. “Qu’est-ce que tu fait?”

“Haha. What? Nothing. Why would I be doing anything? I mean it’s noon Jack. Do I do things at noon?”

“Kent.”

The deadpan, unamused tone stopped Kent’s nervous laughter, and he ran his hand into his hair, knocking his snapback to the ground. He let out a tiny grunt as he retrieved it, then sighed. “I fucked up. I mean, no. I didn’t. But I think I’m about to fuck up.”

“Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, chéri?”

Kent stepped toward the alley, then leant against the brick and took a breath. “Nothing’s…wrong. I mean it’s…we have rules, right? For a reason?”

“Rules,” Jack repeated. “Kenny, where are you?”

“Uh. Outside. Like…near the arena. Just on the street. Near um. A bakery.”

“Is this…about food?” Jack asked.

Kent realised that if he’d maybe explained even a little bit about the night before, Jack would have realised the impact of the words, ‘the bakery.’ But Jack had been dead to the world the night before, and long-gone before Kent had gotten up. So.

“I didn’t fuck that guy last night,” he blurted.

“Okay,” Jack said slowly.

“We drank. I got too drunk, and he was drunk. So we danced, and I met his friends, and he was really fucking nice, and now I’m standing outside his bakery because he invited me for pie and I…it. I want to go in and see him and have pie.”

There was a long, tense pause before Jack said, “Okay.”

Kent’s laugh was high and tight, stressed, because what he really wanted was for Jack to freak out. To get jealous and insist that Kent not go inside. To set boundaries because Kent needed them and he never trusted himself to…

“Would I like him?” Jack’s words interrupted Kent’s train of thought, and he froze.

“Um. Yes?” he said, almost like a question. “I think so. You thought he was cute, and he was sweet and sarcastic. Southern, from like Georgia or something, I think. He bakes, he used to play hockey. He was really fucking nice, Zimms and I…”

“It’s okay,” Jack said softly.

Kent felt his throat go hot and tight, and he cleared it. “Zimms,” the word came out like a pleading whisper. “You know the rules. What we agreed on…”

“We can change them,” Jack said simply. “Kenny, if you think I can’t tell you aren’t completely happy with this arrangement…”

“I’m…Jack you make me happy,” Kent said.

Jack laughed. “I know. But I also know you need more. If this is it, if this is something that might…help, then okay.”

Kent scrubbed a hand down his face, and let out a short breath. “Fine. Okay. Yeah. But we’re talking about this tonight. I’m not…nothing is happening today. I’m going to try the pie and maybe get his number, and then you and I…”

“Yes,” Jack said. “I love you.”

Kent barked out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, babe. I love you too. See you later.” When the call ended, Kent shoved the phone into his pocket, and walked back to the front of the bakery. His hand only hesitated for a second this time, before he pulled the door open and walked inside.

Immediately he was assaulted by the fresh smell of baking bread. It was intense, overwhelming in a way, and his eyes strayed to the wall behind the counter which were, in fact, covered in pies. Photos of them, that looked professionally done. The length of the bakery was an almost all-glass counter, items ranging from breads to tartes to pies to cakes, and a small shelf of different cookies. There was an espresso machine, and a small cash till, and the entire menu which hung above the cash till was done in blue chalk.

Behind the counter stood Bitty, looking similar to the man Kent had met the night before, only he wore a red apron, his hair was brushed back away from his face, and he had a flour smudge over his cheek.

His mouth was curved into a tiny smirk, and he was shaking his head. “Well, well. I didn’t think you were actually gonna show, Mr Parson.”

Kent grimaced as he approached the counter, spreading his hands down on the marble. “Didn’t we talk about that, Bits? The whole Mr Parson, thing?”

“I’m a southern gentleman,” Bitty said with a small sniff, making Kent’s smile widen. “I was wonderin’ if you were actually gonna come in. I saw you hemmin’ and hawin’ just outside the door.”

“Yeah uh well,” Kent said, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I uh, the thing is this is technically against the rules? With me and Jack. So I had to call him.”

“And he gave you the okay to try my pies?” Bitty asked, but there was a weight to his voice as his dark eyes focused on Kent’s blush-pink face.

“Yup he did,” Kent said with a nod. “And um. Maybe to get your number cos like I didn’t last night? And I wanted to.”

Bitty gnawed on his lower lip, then sighed and reached into his apron. He slid the phone across the counter to Kent, but when Kent’s long fingers closed over it Bitty didn’t let go. “Is there any chance you can tell me what this is?”

Kent took a breath. “Um right now? Pie? Because it smells so fucking good I could almost fucking die. And maybe texting. Maybe getting to know each other?”

“To date?”

Kent felt his throat go a little tight, and he tried to swallow past it. “Um. Yes? I don’t…I love Jack but what we have is kind of complicated and I haven’t really liked anyone before. Then I met you and shit, Bits, you were so cool and funny and your accent is just so…”

“Kent Parson has a thing for accents,” Bitty chirped, and Kent laughed.

“And you like…know who I am, but you’re not weird about it,” Kent finished, shrugging.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Bitty pulled his fingers back. “I like you too,” he said as Kent’s fingers flew over the screen, putting in his name and number. He looked up at Bitty with an almost shy smile, which made Bitty laugh. “You seem awful flustered by an average baker for someone who knows Katy Perry in person.”

That startled a laugh out of Kent, who pulled his own phone out of his pocket, and placed it on the counter next to Bitty’s. “She’s really cool, actually. And uh…I mean okay yeah I play hockey and I might know some you know…people. Celebrities, whatever. But I’m still just some guy. Like trust me, Bits, I’m not…anything special.”

Bitty stared at him a long time, then took up Kent’s phone, saying a little sadly, “The worst part about that, Kent, is that I think you believe it.”

*** 

Kent left the bakery with a new twitter to follow, a number in his phone, and an entire strawberry pie which was still warm in the cardboard box. He stared at it, sat in the passenger seat of his car as he put it into drive, and he found as he headed home, he missed the warmth of Bitty’s voice, and the comforting smells of the bakery.

Jack was home when Kent got in, looking a little wrecked from his work-out, and curious as he watched Kent set the pie on the counter. After a minute, he put Kent out of his misery by holding out his arms, and the other man immediately collapsed into them.

“How was it?” Jack asked, running a soothing hand up and down Kent’s spine.

“Uh. It was like…weird? But fine. He was pretty great about the whole thing.” And Bitty had been. He put up the Back in an Hour sign on the door, cut two slices of pie, and sat in a booth with Kent as they talked. Kent offered up as much information as he was comfortable giving regarding Jack.

“He’s like asexual,” Kent said, waiting to see the spark of recognition in Bitty’s eyes, which was there. “And he doesn’t…it’s called sex-repulsed. And shit like…it doesn’t matter to me, you know? Like I can hook up and get my rocks off and both of us were happy this way. But all that started to feel a little empty and uh. And well then I met you and even Jack seemed to think you were perfect for me. And I think he knew it was more than just you know…for sex.”

Bitty had watched him for a while before he said anything. Then he dropped the bomb. “I think if I was gonna date you, I’d need to have somethin’ with Jack, too.”

The conversation ended there, because Kent couldn’t speak for Jack, and this was all so…new. They had never ventured into dating before, not that Kent was opposed to the idea of getting to see Bitty and Jack wrapped up together on the couch watching whatever boring documentaries Jack was into that week, and Bitty could chirp with the best of them, and Kent could totally see Bitty getting along with the team.

But he didn’t know, couldn’t begin to know, how Jack might feel about the whole thing. So he replayed the conversation, bit by bit, and found he couldn’t look up at Jack’s face. He was too afraid to see rejection there.

It wasn’t until he felt a soft hand on his jaw, and the quiet murmur of Jack’s, “Chéri, c’est oké. Tout va bien.”

Kent realised he was shaking, and took a breath as he stepped back from Jack’s arms. “I don’t…”

“He understand that I’m not…that I won’t want…” Jack started.

“Yes, yeah,” Kent said, nodding his head. “Yeah he gets it.”

“Then I don’t see why we can’t…explore it. If you like him, I owe you a chance, right?”

Kent felt his cheeks blush and he let out a small laugh. “Uh. Fuck. Can I get a kiss, Jack?”

Jack chuckled back at him, took Kent’s hands in his own, then drew him close. “Any time, you know this.” His hand was back on Kent’s cheek, fingers stroking along the soft skin, and his head dipped low. Their lips met, soft and steady, parted slightly to slot together just so, and Kent felt himself melting into Jack’s arms.

“I love you so fucking much, Zimms,” he murmured.

Jack laughed again, and drew his hands into Kent’s hair. “I love you too.”

*** 

Kent allowed himself a bit of reprieve from the situation, spending the day with Jack. They hit the gym again later that afternoon, then headed for the rink to get in an evening skate. Swoops was there, he and Becks getting ready to head out, and they shouted a few chirps as Kent and Jack laced up.

They went through a few drills, but spent most of their time just volleying the puck back and forth, skating from one end of the rink to the other. It was soothing, in a way. Kent hadn’t felt this relaxed on ice since they were kids, and he wondered if maybe they really were missing something.

It worried him. That maybe he wasn’t enough for Jack. That maybe Jack really wasn’t enough for him. And he wondered if that was okay. They had stopped treating Jack’s inferiority complex and anxiety with kid gloves, but it didn’t mean Kent couldn’t be careful about it, and he never wanted Jack to feel like Kent couldn’t be happy with just this.

“Are we…okay?” Kent asked as Jack started picking up the stray pucks. “Like…with all of this. Is it really okay?”

Jack looked up from the bucket, and shook his head. “You’re worrying too much.”

“I know it’s just…” Kent let out a tiny growl and ruffled his hair. “I just really fucking love you and what we have is so great. I don’t want anything to fuck it up.”

“I don’t think this will,” Jack said honestly. He hooked the bucket over his arm, then nodded for Kent to follow him off the ice.

“Well you know I’ve done it in the past.”

Jack couldn’t help a small laugh as he began to undo his laces. “Ouias, c’est vrai. But don’t you think you’ve outgrown that a bit? You think we’d be here right now, after this long?”

“Dunno,” Kent said quietly.

Jack sighed, then said, “Why don’t we drive by the bakery and see if it’s open. Maybe I can meet him now.”

Kent had no reason to decline that offer, but his own anxiety skyrocketed. It was only the firm grip on the steering wheel that kept his fingers from shaking.

They had to park up the street because the University game was playing that night at the arena, and the street parking was fucked. He let Jack take his hand as they got out of the car, and as they approached the front door, Kent saw the closed sign up and let out a small breath of relief.

“Yeah look, closed at four. Maybe I can…”

"Kent?” The sweet, southern voice came from around the corner of the alley, and Kent’s words died on his tongue.

Both he and Jack turned, and when it was clear Kent wasn’t going to be able to say anything, Jack stepped up. “Hi. You must be…Bitty?”

Bitty nodded. “Eric, but yeah everyone calls me Bitty.”

“I’m…”

Bitty interrupted with a laugh. “I know, and not just because Kent ran his mouth. Nice to meet you, Mr Zimmermann.”

“Jack,” he corrected, even as Bitty took his fingers lightly, giving them a squeeze.

Bitty shook his head, meeting Kent’s gaze for a second. “Y’all and your lack of manners, I swear. But it’s nice to meet you, Jack. Is um…is there a reason y’all stopped in? I’m closed but…”

“Dinner,” Kent blurted, realising he was sounding a little bit like a cave-man. “Uh. You wanna come have dinner with us, Bits?”

Jack looked mildly surprised, but he offered a welcoming smile all the same as Bitty weighed the question. Eventually he sighed and said, “Why not. I was just gonna go home and re-heat, this’ll save me the trouble.”

Kent felt his shoulders relax a fraction, and he moved away from Jack to sling his arm around Bitty’s shoulders. “We had to park way the fuck off, but there’s a couple of places nearby if you want.”

Bitty sized them up. “Isn’t the area lousy with hockey fans tonight?”

Jack flushed, and Kent rolled his eyes. “Well yeah but…”

“Then I don’t mind the stroll to the car, and maybe a place the three of us could eat in peace.”

“So like,” Kent said, "the apartment.”

Though Jack laughed, Bitty shrugged and said, “I don’t see why not.”

*** 

Kent had envisioned Bitty in his space. He’d been doing it since he came home from the night at the bar. And although he’d known Bitty a grand total of twenty-four hours now, with the small baker on his couch, his feet tucked up on the coffee table and knees pressed against Jack, it was hard to imagine a time he hadn’t occupied part of their space.

Kent sat on the floor with his own food, shovelling it into his mouth to keep from saying anything stupid. He knew what this was, that the fate of all this rested on whether or not Jack and Bitty could actually make it work. And Kent didn’t like to hope for a lot of things, but the force of his desire to see this through was so intense, it almost hurt.

Kent startled when he felt fingers in his hair, and he lolled his head back against the sofa cushion to find Bitty smiling down at him. Just beyond that was Jack, who watched the interaction with soft eyes and an easy grin. Kent’s heart fluttered, and he felt warm all over.

“So uh. This has been nice.”

Bitty laughed quietly, his fingers still drawing blunt lines along Kent’s scalp. “It has, sweetheart. Thank you for havin’ me over.”

“Can we do this again?” Jack asked.

Bitty looked over, his face bright like the sun. “Of course, hon. If y’all want me, anyway.”

“Yes,” Jack said decisively. “I mean, yes, please.”

Bitty laughed. “Lord, the Canadian. How about we make an actual plan, and I’ll bring pie. Assuming you liked my strawberry one.”

“Didn’t last five minutes,” Kent said, and Jack rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway. “So yeah, you can say we’re kind of like…massive fans of your baking and if getting to date you means more pie, I think we can handle it.”

“Neither of you got a nutritionist who’d wanna kill me?” Bitty asked, hand still in Kent’s hair, even as he shifted closer to Jack.

“Bits, trust me,” Kent said, shaking his head against Bitty’s fingers, “we have to eat so many fucking calories. Especially this one. He has a hard time keeping weight on. Especially during playoffs.”

Bitty went quiet. “That gets busy, right? And you two on the same team and all…I won’t see you a lot.”

Kent bit his bottom lip. “Um. I mean it’s not like actors gone for months on sets or shit like that.”

Jack hummed his agreement. “But it’s a tense time. I’m worse than Kenny. And if we make it to the cup, we spend a lot of time on the east coast.”

“Okay,” Bitty said after some time. “I guess so long as I’m prepared.”

Kent turned his head, pressing his cheek against Bitty’s thigh. “I want to try. I mean it’s not easy but…I do. I think I can be good.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Bitty said, stroking Kent’s cheek with his thumb. “I’m not worried about that.”

Kent looked up to see Jack staring at him with wide, sad eyes, and he knew he’d just exposed himself a little too much. “I didn’t mean…I’m only saying…”

“When do y’all have time for another date?”

Jack bit his lip, then grabbed his phone to check their exact schedule. “Sharks here on Friday. We’re in Seattle Saturday. Back until Monday, then we’re in Dallas. That…”

“Starts our five game roadie,” Kent said. “We could get something in Sunday, if you want.”

“I close at two on Sundays,” Bitty said.

Kent perked up, turning. “We could get in a show. Bits, have you seen shows here? Like Love? I fuckin’ love that one.”

Jack laughed. “We’ve seen it six times. He has tickets on standby.”

Bitty smiled, his cheeks pink, head shaking. “I haven’t. I just moved and I think that might be a great second date.”

“Second date, eh?” Jack said, nudging Bitty.

Bitty raised a brow until Jack blushed. “I’m a proper gentleman and if two handsome men mean to invite me back to their place, it had better be date. Especially if either of them are expectin’ kisses.”

Jack blushed further, and Kent had to hide his laughter against Bitty’s thigh. “Fair enough,” Jack said. Then he yawned and flushed again. “Sorry. It’s late for me.”

Bitty shook his head, but pushed up off the sofa, disrupting Kent’s position. “It’s alright. I been up since three makin’ bread. I should get going.”

“I’ll drive you,” Kent said as he got up. Jack was quick to follow, and as Kent walked toward the kitchen to grab his keys off the table, he heard the distinct sounds of kissing.

He turned, slow and quiet so he wouldn’t disturb, and he saw Jack bent down, Bitty up on his toes. Jack’s hand, so massive, covered nearly all of Bitty’s cheek, and their lips danced sweet and soft. Kent felt that in his chest, coursing down to his toes, and the want was strong enough to almost knock him over.

When they parted, Bitty was flushed, and Jack was blinking a little dazedly as he said, “I’ll text you?”

“Okay,” Bitty whispered.

Jack backed up, so Kent took the opportunity to steal a kiss of his own, to taste a little bit of Bitty on Jack’s tongue. “See you in a bit. You don’t have to wait up,” Kent whispered.

Jack held him tight for a second. “À bientôt, chéri,” he murmured.

Kent kissed him again, a light peck, before turning and taking Bitty’s hand in his. They made their way to the door, and neither said a word until they got into the lift and started for the lobby.

“Was that okay?” Bitty asked quietly. He was staring at their joined hands, cheeks still a little pink.

Kent raised his brows, squeezing Bitty’s fingers. “The uh…the kissing? Because hell yeah, Bits. That was…I was hoping for that, you know?”

Bitty looked up, hesitation in his eyes which caused worry to bloom in Kent’s chest. “I’m just not sure where I fit in. I mean, I like you both a lot. Kinda knew I would after the night at the bar. You were so sweet, Kenny.”

Kent bit his lip. “But…?”

Bitty sighed. “But I’m not sure I fit in. I’m not anything special. Not famous or…”

“Shit,” Kent said, and when the lift stopped, he slammed the door closed button, then crowded Bitty back against the wall. “You don’t have to be famous to be something special, and I think you’re really fucking amazing, Bits.” He reached up carefully, his palm out, and Bitty leant into it. “I don’t want someone because strangers know who they are. You’re cute as hell, and sweet, and you chirp Jack like you’ve known him for years. I…I like you. Jack likes you. I know it’s only been a day but, I want this.”

Bitty blinked his large, dark eyes at Kent, then smiled. “Then okay. I’ll try to stop feelin’ so insecure. Because I like you both, too.”

Kent wanted to stay there forever, but he knew it was getting late, and they had an early skate the next morning. Tangling their fingers together once more, Kent led the way to the parking garage, and soon enough he was following Bitty’s directions to a small apartment not too far from the bakery and the arena.

“I could get you tickets,” Kent blurted as they pulled to a stop at the kerb. “To the uh…to the game. You don’t live far and like…it would be pretty great if you could come?”

Bitty bit down on his lip. “I um. Yeah, okay. I’d love to see you both play.” He stuck his thumbnail in his mouth, chewing for a second, then said, “You wanna walk me upstairs?”

Kent all but threw himself out of the car, making Bitty giggle as Kent pushed the alarm, and even held the building door for Bitty. They walked up two flights of stairs, then Bitty put his key in the lock and pushed the door open.

The apartment was small, but homey and warm, and smelt of the bakery which gave Kent the overwhelming feeling of home. He didn’t far into the place when the door slammed, and Bitty suddenly had him pressed against the wall.

“Is it okay if I…”

“Yes, fuck,” Kent gasped. “Yeah shit. Shit yes please,” he babbled as Bitty began to nip at his jaw, trailing his lips along his skin until their mouths met.

Kent was aroused, instantly. It happened so fast he was dizzy with it, and he grasped Bitty’s hips, dragging the shorter man against him. Their tongues slid together, hot and needy, velvet soft and Kent groaned as his head pushed forward, his hands spinning them until Bitty was against the wall.

“Shit, Bits, I want…fuck I want…”

“Can we…are you…?” Bitty gasped back at him.

“We can,” Kent said. “If you want um…I want to.”

Bitty pulled back to look at him, to read the intent on his face, and Kent saw fierce want echoed back at him. It fuelled his determination to grab Bitty by the front, and haul him toward the bedroom which he found on the first try.

Bitty laughed as Kent kicked the door shut, then attacked Bitty’s clothes with extreme purpose. Bitty was just as determined, and soon enough they were both naked, pressed together, mouths moving like they wanted to devour every inch of skin.

“Do you have uh…”

“Drawer,” Bitty gasped, fumbling as Kent attacked the sensitive spot just under Bitty’s ear. He managed to get a small box of condoms, slapping them against the duvet near the pillow. “I uh…I don’t usually like you know. Anal.”

“That’s okay,” Kent murmured. “I just want you. However you want, Bits. Anything you want.”

Bitty groaned, arching as Kent’s hand ghosted between their bodies, his touch torturously light, making Bitty shiver all over. With a tentative grip, Kent took Bitty in his hand, giving him an experimental stroke. 

Bitty was responsive, swearing under his breath, and pushing into Kent’s grasp. “More I…please. More.”

“Can I suck you?” Kent murmured against his neck.

“Oh lord,” Bitty groaned. “Yes, yes please.”

Kent fumbled with the condom box, cursing his nerves for making his hands shake, but soon enough he had a condom rolled over Bitty, and he was sinking down. The taste of latex wasn’t the most pleasant, but the way Bitty rolled his hips up and moaned like he’d bring the roof down with his noises was worth it, and Kent began sucking him in earnest.

Bitty, for what it was worth, lasted longer than Kent would have, who was already so close that any pressure against his dick would have him spilling. He kept his hips up as he took Bitty as deep as he could, and eventually he felt Bitty’s hand in his hair.

“Oh I’m…oh darlin’ I’m…” he managed before Kent felt him swell and pulse and gasp with his orgasm.

Kent reached between his own legs, giving himself three firm pulls before his own climax took him, and he let his head drop onto Bitty’s stomach. “Shit,” he gasped.

“Oh hun, I was gonna do that,” Bitty replied, his voice sex-thick and heavy.

“S’okay,” Kent said with a tired laugh. “Wanted it like that. It was so good. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“You are too, sweetheart. Just perfect,” he murmured, and Kent felt a shiver through his whole body. He realised he could definitely get used to hearing shit like that.

They lay there after cleaning up, basking for a while, but eventually Kent pushed himself up. He hovered over Bitty, hands bracketing Bitty’s head on either side of the pillow, and covered his face with soft kisses.

“Gotta go,” he murmured. “Early day. But you’ll come tomorrow? To the game?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Bitty murmured.

Kent started to pull away, but the soft look in Bitty’s eyes drew him back in for another, slow kiss. “Hey Bits?”

“Mm?” Bitty asked, dragging his fingers along Kent’s cheek.

“Would uh…would you ever like…stay over with us? With me and Jack? I mean with him it’s just sleeping but um…I think he’d like it.”

“Yeah,” Bitty said, and smiled. “We can talk about it and if it’s what we all want, then yeah. I think you’d have a hard time gettin’ rid of me though.”

“You know Bits,” Kent said, and paused to kiss him again for a second, “I don’t think that sounds like a problem at all.”

*** 

**Epilogue**

Jack and Kent were last off the ice. They hadn’t expected to get far in the playoffs that year. Jack’s game was compromised by a knee injury, Swoops was out til next season with ankle surgery, and their starting goalie was nursing a concussion.

It was a recipe for disaster which had the Sharks beating them in game four and ending their chances for the cup.

It wasn’t the worst thing, but Kent could feel disappointment radiating off Jack as they headed for the showers.

A few of the other guys said they’d be taking press, and Jack and Kent, holding the A and the C, would have to do a couple interviews, but they’d keep it short and sweet. It wasn’t long until they were showered, dressed, and feeling the adrenaline draining out of them as Kent sped back toward their apartment.

Jack didn’t say much—which wasn’t a surprise, but Kent notice the immediate lift in his shoulders when they entered the corridor and were assaulted by the sudden smell of baking. Kent almost laughed as Jack’s feet picked up speed, and soon enough the door was flung open, and Jack was in the kitchen.

Bitty let out a tiny yelp as massive arms engulfed him, but he only clung on tight, dragging his fingers into Jack’s hair. “Sweetheart, y’all did so well. You tried your best, I’m so proud of you.”

Jack said nothing, but buried his face in Bitty’s neck and breathed him in.

Kent at first had been jealous when Jack started taking his post-loss comfort in Bitty’s arms, but Kent realised it was necessary. Kent was too close to the game, too close to the problem. Sometimes it was even his fault—and he knew Jack would never hate him for it, but he needed the space.

And Kent did too. Kent realised what Bitty offered them. A touchstone outside of hockey, connection and love and affection away from the game and their career. Kent hadn’t realised they’d been lacking it until Bitty had showed up in their home—a whirlwind of Georgia sunshine and baked pies, and he’d never been happier.

And now, as Jack pulled away from Bitty and turned to Kent, cupping his cheek and kissing him, Kent was reminded of why this was perfect, and so necessary. “Good game,” Jack murmured. “Proud of you out there.”

Kent flushed with his whole body and curled his fingers into the front of Jack’s t-shirt. “I love you so fucking much, Zimms.”

“Je t’aime,” Jack muttered. He let go, turned to kiss Bitty once more, then moved to the bedroom to lay down.

Jack liked solitude after a loss, but Kent craved physical comfort, and couldn’t help a smile as a warm hand took his, drawing him to the sofa. There was their most fluffy duvet already waiting, the back window cracked open, the AC blasting. Bitty burritoed them together, shuffling down so Kent could lay between the V in his legs, cheek resting against the thumping of Bitty’s heart.

Bitty’s strong, slender fingers dragged through Kent’s hair and they lay there in silence for a long time.

“I knew we weren’t gonna take it,” Kent murmured. “And it sucks but like…it feels less worse this year.”

“Yeah?” Bitty asked.

Kent turned his head, resting his chin lightly on Bitty’s sternum as he reached out, dragging a finger along the edge of Bitty’s jaw. “Knowing we had this to come home to. Babe you…you make everything feel less shitty.”

Bitty laughed, but it was light and sweet, his dark eyes wide and full of adoration. “Well darlin’, I’m happy to do what I can. You know I love you two so much.”

“We know,” Kent said, then turned his head again, comforted by the rhythmic beat of the baker’s heart. “We love you too like…so fucking much it’s stupid.”

Bitty laughed again, then leant forward to kiss the crown of Kent’s head. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Kent snorted. “Well maybe a win next year. You can mix up pie filling in the cup.”

“Lord have mercy, I’ve seen videos of what y’all do in that cup. My pie filling isn’t going anywhere near it.”

“They clean it,” Kent said with a laugh, and had to kiss Bitty right then, so he did. When he pulled away, he shifted to the side so he could tug Bitty against his chest and hold him. “Would you change anything, if you could?”

Bitty took a breath, then shook his head. “No. I love you both exactly how you are.”

Kent smiled, and closed his eyes, and after a long, long season, finally let himself rest.


End file.
